


When The Lights Go Out

by exovelvetwriters



Category: EXO (Band), Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, EXOVelvet, F/M, Horror, Mystery, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:00:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28873479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exovelvetwriters/pseuds/exovelvetwriters
Summary: Sehun never expected that one day, he would be putting his house on fire and watch it burn to ashes.Genre: Horror/Mystery/Thriller, Prompt: Luminescence
Relationships: Kim Yerim | Yeri & Oh Sehun, Kim Yerim | Yeri/Oh Sehun
Kudos: 1
Collections: EXOVelvetWritersFest 2.0





	When The Lights Go Out

_ 31st October, 1927 _

Sehun checked the date twice. He wasn’t one to pile work for tomorrow but today, he might just have to. His limbs felt numb and he was tired from traveling places because of his job. A detective’s work required both the brain and the body. He usually enjoyed every second of it everyday but today, he felt like giving in. 

There was a knock on the door. Sehun raised his head from the papers and met with Yerim’s eyes. “Dinner’s ready,” she said. He smiled warmly, never would he have expected his wife to come knocking at his door to call him for dinner. It wasn’t like her at all. More so, she was wearing a dress. Was he forgetting something important?

Yerim wasn’t the usual wife. She found the conventional wife’s duties regressive. And Sehun always thought she was born several eras early. After dinner, he had to do the dishes, and before traveling, he had to fix his own luggage too. She was of free nature, wore pants, turned heads, spoke her mind, and lived in her own will. While he, he admired her for who she was and let her be whoever she wanted to be. 

“Come down soon,” she emphasized. Sehun immediately stood up from his desk, eager to abandon his all-of-a-sudden boring paperwork. 

Sehun blew on the candle. The room became dark. He stood there before the window for a second. Sehun could swear. He had felt something touch his hand. Something as cold as the snow outside. Snapping his head left and right, he stumbled back. The windows were closed. The moonlight splashed into the study, illuminating it. Sehun heard the creaking of the door in his son’s room. Mark’s footsteps down the stairs were thunderous. He shook his head, must be the wind. Must be the wind.

The handle of the door was frozen almost. The smell of dinner wafted across his nose. Sehun pulled at it. He has been doing this for three years now and was rather accustomed to just pulling the handle and stepping out. But today, the handle was stuck. Must be the overwhelming rust. He had to fix the door soon. 

Sehun pulled again. It didn’t open.

“Sehun!”

He heard from downstairs. “Coming!” He yelled back, impatient now with the stupid door. 

“Mark fell--fell down the stairs!” Yerim’s voice was trembling.

His eyes widened. He kicked at the door and cursed. What the hell, he thought. Did Yerim lock it from outside? The worry for his son ate at his insides. Sehun tried countless times but it seemed the door was locked. “Yerim! You locked the door!”

No one spoke. He was left with no answer at all. All of a sudden, piercing the thick silence, he heard something creak. Creak creak creak. His breathing stopped momentarily. Sehun gasped. The cold hand was on his shoulder. He turned immediately, pressing his back to the wood of the door. The rocking chair...

It was moving.

Back and forth. 

On its own. 

Sehun jerked the door handle now. Violently. With all his strength. His breathing quickened. The wind pushed in through the now open windows and Sehun felt like he was being suffocated to his own end. Three years of living in this century old house and never had he encountered something of this mysterious sort.

“S-Sehun--”

“Yerim,” he whispered. “Get me out of here!”

His wife hummed in question. Sehun just slapped the door continuously, face pale with fear. “But it’s not locked, Sehun.”

“What?” Sehun took a hold of the handle once again and twisted it. The door opened. Yerim eyed him curiously. “It was...it was locked, I swear...Yerim, look...the chair,” he pointed into his room. Yerim peered inside. Sehun’s eyes widened even more. “...it was moving on it’s own…”

Yerim clicked her tongue, “Come on now,” she pulled him out of the dark room. “Dinner’s getting cold. Mark bruised his knee, my poor boy,” she kept talking to him, but more to herself. Sehun was petrified, once again. 

She was not wearing the dress.

He gulped at the sight. But it also can be that she had changed. At the table, Mark was sitting at his usual spot, face all gloomy. “Papa, I fall and cut knee,” he whined but Sehun was still hearing the creaking of the rocky chair in his head. “Papa,” Mark shook him by the shoulder.

“Sehun, what’s wrong?” Yerim asked, passing him the plate.

Pulled out of the daze, Sehun snapped his head at his son. “Yeah...where is it, baby?” Mark showed him the bandage on his right knee. He whined more, trying to draw his busy father’s attention but Sehun was just too out of it. His skin was burning, where the cold fingers of the wind had been.

“Mama, I want cheese.”

“What is the magic word?” Yerim smiled.

“Please!” Mark flailed his hands out of excitement. Sehun couldn’t concentrate on the food or the conversation at the table. His dinner was cold now, just like his hands and limbs and nose. He hardly ate. His wife peered through her bangs at him, wondering what was wrong but he abruptly stood up and washed his plate. 

“Papa, did someone die?” Mark asked, munching on his pasta. That was the usual conversation at the table, what he did at work today, if he used his gun, was there any murder. Mark was extremely interested and Yerim never discouraged that. 

“No,” he answered. “Yerim, do you mind--”

“I’ll do the dishes. But you’ll make the bed then?” She wiggled her brows with a smile. Sehun smiled back, nodding slightly. He jogged upstairs without another word. Heart accelerated in his chest. A little nervous now, he twists the handle of the door to the study; to check if the chair was still rocking on its own or was it just an illusion.

The chair was still. The windows were closed. Sehun sighed in relief. Must have been the undying stress of deadlines. From the drawer of his desk, he fished out the pack of cigarettes. This couldn’t be denied, the chill was still there in his bones. A smoke might erase it. Sehun goes ahead to flick on the lighter but to his greatest annoyance, he sees no fire. He tried twice, thrice but to no success. He remembered the device to be of smooth use, flawless. Did Yerim use it while he was out at work? But Yerim didn’t smoke anymore.

There must be a crack in one of these windows, must be the wind coming through. Sehun couldn’t light his cigarette so threw the lighter back into the drawer along with the packet. It was a cold night, undoubtedly, so he just wanted to crawl under the blankets and hug Yerim’s warm body to sleep.

Drowned in the mellow thoughts of his wife, he had missed the chair on the side. The creaking resumed. Faint initially. Sehun thought it was the creaking of Mark’s door but the sound, so familiar, stuck in his head. Gradually his eyes widened. Fear crept up and clenched his heart. The wooden rocking chair, was once again, moving on its own. The detective muffled his own scream with a hand, paced backwards until his legs gave in. Something dark was moving towards him, he could see it with his eyes closed. Sehun fell on the ground of the corridor, crawling as he yelled the name of his wife.

Sehun toppled over the edge of the stairs, losing all of his balance. And everything was black afterwards. He laid on the floor with cuts on his hands and face, hearing the faint screams of his wife until he could anymore.

“It’s her...she’s the evil one,,” said a voice, a whisper of a little girl. Sehun tried to move but it was as if he was merely a particle of air, no body, only two ears and a mind. “Kill her...your wife...kill her, Oh Sehun.”

He jerked awake, opened his eyes to his son sobbing while holding his arm and Yerim patted his cheeks continuously to wake him up. There was water on his face, a lot of it, a glass in her hand. “What happened?” she asked, breathing anxiously. “How did you...did you slip? Come on, sit up.” Sighing in relief, she said, “Must be your blood pressure. It has become low again...Should I beg you? To eat your food properly everyday? Sehun, you didn’t even touch your dinner. I’m worried all the time. Now, sit up!”

Sehun stared at her face, she was angry, she was worried, he had no doubt that she was an angel. Yerim, his playmate, his best friend, his lover, his wife, the mother of his son, Yerim, his everything...then what did he hear? Was his head making it all up? He cupped her cheek, all of a sudden, the whispers playing inside his head. _ It’s her...  _

“Papa,” Mark crawled on his lap and hugged him. “Papa, it’s okay. I fall too. All the time.”

Sehun nodded. “Fine, let’s get you to bed then.” His voice quivered. Sehun could still feel a black shadow looming over his family. Marked held his hand tightly and guided him up the stairs as if he was the father. 

“See, if careful then you no fall, Papa,” he grinned at Sehun. “But, if you jump, you fall. So no jump, Papa. Okay?”

Sehun patted his head, “Okay.”

Looking over his shoulder, he glanced at Yerim once again. The fear crept in. Could it be that the voice in his head was true? No...no way, He thought as he sat at the edge of Mark’s bed. Mark jiggled into his pajamas and jumped on the bed out of happiness. His father usually never had time to put him to bed. “I’ll be back with your storybook,” Sehun said and Mark nodded, enthusiastic.

Mark was already under the blanket once he returned. The lamp was off. Sehun went around his bed to switch it on. There was a pull of his trousers from under the bed. Sehun jumped up, his hand hitting the lamp on the nightstand. A gasp followed when the object dropped to the floor and lost its power. 

“Papa,” Mark patted the space next to himself, not at all fazed by what just happened. So Sehun didn’t give it much importance either. He was freaking out at everything today. He climbed under the blanket and hugged his son’s side. “Papa, I don’t need the story. Let’s just talk.”

“What do you wanna talk about?”

“What happened to the owner of this house?”

Sehun watched his son for a while. His usual lisp was missing somehow. But he was only proud that Mark had done it. “He...died.”

“He got killed?”

A chill ran down his spine. Sehun hummed, it was the truth. The house belonged to the late sergeant major Kim Junmyeon. One morning, he was found dead in his kitchen. His wife was clueless, his daughter knew exactly who killed him, His neighbor said the daughter did the job while Junmyeon’s mistress said it was the wife. Sehun had been stubborn to solve this murder mystery of his senior, but soon, he learned the painful truth behind the killing. Kim Junmyeon wasn’t a good man. He had cheated on his wife, abused his very own daughter, taken advantage of his poor widowed neighbor and kept his mistress behind closed doors when all she wanted was a life of freedom. So the ladies have all ganged up against him and in the end of October, they executed their plan to kill him. They fled the city soon after, leaving behind a note for Sehun. They gave him Junmyeon’s house and all of what he had, because he was the only one who had cared about the man. That was why he was living here now, with his wife and son. 

“Did you kill him?”

“W-What no--Mark, where are you getting these ideas from?”

“Papa, how did he die?”

Sehun was irritated by these questions, he was usually a very patient father. Suddenly, there was a muffled voice coming from underneath them. Sehun left Mark’s side and with all the courage in his heart, he crouched low to find out what was lurking in there. 

His hand froze in the air as he met his son’s eyes under the bed. 

“Mark.”

“Papa, bad person on bed,” there was the lisp in his words. In the dark, Sehun watched his little son crawl into his arm while he tried to register the events in his head. 

There was no one at all where Mark was sitting. But Sehun thought...he thought...he had seen just a little of Junmyeon’s face in the shadow that loomed over the two of them now. He began screaming again. It was just too much for his brain. There couldn’t be any other possibility. Junmyeon was back...back to haunt him, kill him how he was killed. Scooping his son in his arms, he bolted out of the room. Mark cried in his arms, huddled in the space, trying to hold on to the safety.

The lights in the kitchen were off. But Yerim was still there. He heard the utensils, the cutlery, the glass. Sehun stumbled back as the voice played inside his head. _ It’s her... _

So where was he supposed to go now? Sehun swallowed, holding Mark to his chest. “Shh,” he said, “Keep quiet.”

“Papa, we die?”

“No, silly,” Sehun eyed the door of the kitchen. A thud surprised him. Mark gasped, wetting his father’s shirt with his snot. Thud again. The whole house shook with every thud. Darkness swallowed the two of them. Sehun only wondered if Yerim was alright and if they could survive the night.

Slowly, he sat down on one of the steps. The thudding sound continued. It wasn’t getting closer and as much as Sehun wanted to help Yerim in the kitchen, he couldn’t leave his son behind. So he sucked it up, closed his eyes and squeezed his son in his arms. Mark didn’t say another word.

Suddenly, it all stopped. Silence fell in the house, eerie, haunting, cold silence. Mark clasp his shirt tightly at the suddenness. And now they heard footsteps. 

“Sehun!” it was Yerim. “Help me!”

His breath shortened. Yerim walked out of the kitchen, barely being able to stand on her feet. The moonlight shone on her scars. She was crying, her hair was all over the place. There was blood in her gums, trickling down her jaws. Sehun sprang up. Mark ran towards his mother first, hugging her legs.

“We have to get out of here,” Sehun muttered quietly. Yerim stumbled into his body, crying into his shirt. “It’s Junmyeon,” he whispered. “He used to abuse his wife and daughter too.”

Yerim held him tightly, the blood on her skin now on his shirt. Sehun swallowed. They couldn’t be afraid, that way, they will be able to get out of this house. And being a detective, observation came as easy as breathing to him. He held his son’s hand, looked around, there was no light. Light...the ghost of Junmyeon was afraid of light. That was why, when he blew the candle off did the chair start rocking on its own, that was why the lighter didn’t work, and when he returned to Mark’s bedroom with the story book, the light was turned off. The ghost must have taken the advantage when Yerim turned the lights off after cleaning up. 

Today was the end of October, the night Junmyeon was killed. Sehun took a deep breath, “We have to...light this house up, Rim.”

Yerim’s eyes widened even more. But she never questioned him. Mark clung to his father. “Papa!” He screamed, pointing at his mother, “M-Mommy...Mommy ghost--look!”

“No, the ghost--Yerim!” Sehun gasped at the sight. Yerim was smiling at the two of them. And it would’ve been just alright if her hands weren’t trying to strangle Mark. “Yerim, what are you doing!” Sehun yelled at her, “No, Yerim,” he tried to pry the hands off. With the inhuman strength in his body, Yerim threw him off. The flower vase landed on the floor and shattered to pieces beside him. Sehun crawled back to his almost unconscious son.

“Sehun--” Her eyes widened, like she wasn’t being able to control her hands, “I don’t want to--”

“You can!” Sehun shouted, with all his strength, he tried to push her hands away from Mark. Yerim’s nails clawed at Mark’s chest, a monstrous look in her eyes. “Yerim!”

She finally let go. Sehun pulled Mark towards himself. “Yerim…”

“Go...go without me,” she said, coming in and out of herself. “It’ll burn with me.”

“No! Never!”

“It’s got me.”

Sehun stood up with wobbly feet and reached into the drawer near himself. Luckily, there was a box of matches. 

“Here, it will only hurt a little.” Sehun watched her glitch. The ghost was still inside her. He carried his unconscious boy out first through the door. He came back for her. Yerim dragged herself towards the open door, before her eyes flickered again and she was running back. Sehun gulped, “Yerim, no!”

She threw at him a chair, and then all of the vases. Yerim, ever so wild now, still glitched. “Put the house on fire! Now!” She screamed. And the next second, “Get out, you filthy animal!”

Sehun could cry now, watching his beloved wife go crazy like that. He went in after her, in his hand, a lit match. With all the force in the world, he slapped her face, taking her by surprise. He dug the match into her skin, making her scream in pain. “Sehun,” she recognized him and Sehun knew, now was the time. 

Immediately after bolting out of the house, he set it on fire.

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and comments for our author! <3 You could also leave a like and share with your friends on Twitter! Just look for our festival thread on @exovelvetwrtrs.


End file.
